The woodsmen

I'm almost home

The woodsmen
please believe this song i'm sending
down from morning's grey-dimmed rendering
all along like birds of sadness
whose aimless wings caress our sadness
i cant be my own reflection
dancing for the girls inspection
when ive gone beneath the reason
hold my calls and take my trees in
just be calm and let them fake it
take it out of what theyre taking
her clean laundry- abstract heaven
show me outfits one thru seven
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